Distractions: Breaking Point
by tsuki-llama
Summary: "Distractions" one-shot/short. The strain of keeping their relationship secret is wearing on Hei and Misaki, and Misaki isn't sure how much longer she can ignore the fact that her lover is also the Black Reaper. When one of Hei's missions brings him into collision with Section 4, their trust in each other is put to the test. Will Misaki finally be pushed past her breaking point?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story takes place during the Epilogue of "Distractions", and after "Wine & Sympathy". Warning: this story is rated M for a reason. If lemon is not your thing, you will be safe reading chapters 1 - 3, which contain the actual plot events and aftermath, and are rated T. Chapters 4 and 5 are further character development; while it is not gratuitous (it's not, I swear), it is explicit, hence the overall rating of M. I will place additional warnings at the beginning of those chapters as well.

As always, I do not own DtB, etc.

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The light of the setting sun angled sharply through narrow streets, brushing the edges of worn out buildings with molten gold. In another neighborhood, it would have been pretty, beautiful even. Here in the industrial waterfront district, it just served to highlight the years of grime and graffiti that covered every available surface.

The state of the neighborhood didn't bother Kirihara Misaki; she'd seen rougher places, and doubtless she'd see rougher still before the end of her career. No, what bothered her was the fact that they'd had to take Saitou's car instead of her own. Her Porsche would stand out like a signal beacon to any criminals in the vicinity, whereas Saitou's beat up old Toyota blended in perfectly. But it meant that he was the one driving, not her.

"Turn left here," she told him as they reached a cross street. "And not so slowly, we don't want to look suspicious."

"Right, Chief!"

As her subordinate followed her instructions and drove through the quiet, littered streets, Misaki picked up her walkie and pressed the talk button. "Ootsuka, do we still have eyes on our man?"

The radio crackled, and Ootsuka's voice came through in a barely intelligible garble. "Affirmative. Astronomics' surveillance network is tracking him. He's ten minutes out from the rendezvous."

"Roger. Kouno, are you in position?"

Kouno's voice was a little clearer than Ootsuka's, but just barely. "Yep," he said. "Ready and waiting."

Misaki set her walkie back on the dash of Saitou's car. Kouno and Matsumoto were their reserves, waiting a few blocks away in case she and Saitou needed backup. They shouldn't - this was supposed to be simple observation and intelligence gathering - but it was best to play it safe. Misaki had learned that the hard way just a few short months ago.

"Pull over here," she directed Saitou. He obediently pulled up to the curb in front of a row of dilapidated store fronts, but he didn't turn off the engine.

"Here?" he asked. "Uh, why here?"

Misaki looked at him questioningly. "Why not here? We're one block out from the rendezvous - any closer and we risk spooking the contact."

"Yeah, but…" Saitou trailed off. They were in the shadow of the row of buildings and Misaki couldn't read the expression on his face; but she could see that rather than looking at her, his gaze was directed past her and out the window. She turned and looked herself. It was a minute before she recognized the closed and shuttered bar. There was an odd fluttering in her stomach.

"Oh."

It was the bar that Hei's team had been using as their base of operations, where she had followed Huang and Yin only to have the former knock her out and tie her up in the basement for Hei to "deal with". Saitou, of course, didn't know the full extent of that deal. He only knew the lie that she had told all her friends and co-workers - that she didn't remember anything about how she'd come to be bound and left unconscious by BK-201.

She frequently dreamed of that basement. In reality, Hei had cut her bonds gently and almost respectfully, and she had kissed him. In her dreams, she remained tied up and at the mercy of a very ungentle and disrespectful Black Reaper, and she awoke feeling…unsettled. The fantasy was even beginning to spill over into her waking daydreams, which she certainly didn't have time for. And now she'd inadvertently brought Saitou and herself here.

She hadn't ever mentioned the dream to Hei. For one thing, it frightened her. If he had _actually_ taken her like that that night, despite her kiss, it would have been assault and she would have never forgiven him. Secondly, there was no way on earth she'd let anyone have such total control over her. Being rendered helpless like that, the plastic zip ties cutting into her wrists, had been horrifying. And finally - Hei just wasn't like that. Despite the violence that he was capable of - that he lived, day after day - as a lover he was nothing but passion and tenderness, willing to take any direction that she gave him without complaint. He was…sweet.

Misaki turned away from the window and felt a twinge in her lower back, and pressed a hand to the spot. She'd been spending way too much time behind her desk lately; all that sitting couldn't be good for a person. Or maybe it was just stress. To Saitou, she said, "It's as good a place as any. We won't be waiting long in any case."

Saitou shut off the engine of his car, but didn't respond. Misaki hoped that he wasn't still blaming himself for not answering his phone when she called for backup that night. Knowing Saitou, he probably was. She didn't know what else she could say to him, to assure him that he wasn't at fault, and that she hadn't actually been hurt. In fact, she should be thanking him - that was the night that had eventually led to her affair with Hei, which she wouldn't give up for anything.

It was just…she was getting so tired of the lies and the secrecy. She couldn't tell the people she cared about and trusted that she was seeing anyone. Only Kanami knew that she was sleeping with "Li", and her friend had no idea that Li was actually a contractor. A contractor that Misaki was supposed to be trying to arrest, who was killing people on the streets of her city and who would kill any of her team should they get in his way. What would he do if _she_ got in his way? She didn't believe that he would kill her, not really, but…how could she be sure? They hadn't had any run-ins with BK-201 in weeks, but every day she dreaded getting a call that would bring them face to face.

At least tonight there was no chance of that. They had a simple, straightforward job: follow their informant to his rendezvous with another contractor and watch. Their informant, who called himself Grebe, claimed that he was a member of EPR and would be meeting to exchange intel with another member tonight. He hadn't had much to give the police when they'd arrested him; his release was contingent on his promise to be able to deliver something concrete out of this meeting. Misaki had insisted that she and her team keep eyes on him at all times. It was proving damnably frustrating to get any sort of break in the EPR case, and she wasn't about to let a potential lead slip away from her. She needed to stay in control of the situation.

Misaki and Saitou passed several quiet minutes in the car, waiting. The golden light of the sunset deepened to a burnished orange as night crept upon them. Misaki was having trouble keeping her thoughts from straying towards Hei and the basement. He hadn't come by last night, yet his star hadn't been active. What had he been doing…she probably didn't want to know. Their relationship worked best when she could forget that he was the Black Reaper, and just focus on who he was as Hei.

She rubbed absently at her wrist. Maybe she ought to ask to Saitou to move the car after all.

It was with great relief that she heard Ootsuka's voice on the radio: "Subject has reached the rendezvous point; we have eyes on a potential contact, heading towards the rendezvous from the south."

"Roger," Misaki said into the walkie. "We're moving into position."

She and Saitou exited his car quietly and proceeded towards the warehouse where the two contractors were supposed to be meeting. Misaki pulled her gun from its holster under her arm and held it at the ready, angled down for safety. In her peripheral vision she saw Saitou do the same. With the inherent trust of a long-standing partnership, Misaki silently took up position ahead of him, knowing that he would have her back.

She spotted a figure on the warehouse's loading dock. She couldn't see his face, but his build matched that of Grebe: a tall, slim man with a ponytail of red hair hanging past his shoulders. He was standing with the patient ease of a contractor, facing towards the south. Misaki scanned the long, shadowed street…there. Another figure was walking up towards their informant, not a hint of suspicion or hesitation in his stride. Good. It looked like Grebe had been telling the truth about the meeting.

Misaki relaxed her grip on her weapon, but only slightly. She and Saitou concealed themselves in a shadowed doorway; anyone on the street would have trouble spotting them.

Grebe jumped down from the loading dock onto the street to meet the newcomer. The two men exchanged some words that Misaki couldn't hear; then she saw the contact hand over a letter-sized envelope. Grebe tucked it into his jacket and continued speaking to his contact. Misaki regretted not forcing him to wear a wire - was he warning the other man that the police were watching, or was he holding to his deal?

Grebe turned his head to the side as if attracted by a strange sound, though Misaki hadn't heard anything; then without warning he bolted off into the narrow lane beside the warehouse. Misaki had barely even registered the action before the wide door of the loading bay ripped from its supports with a screech of metal. It hit Grebe's contact with a deadly blow to the head. Even as the man collapsed to the ground, another figure - a black-haired woman, wrapped in the fading blue glow of synchrotron radiation - dashed across the street and down the alley after Grebe.

_Shit!_ Misaki had a split second to make a decision: risk herself and her team to chase after the contractors and hope to make an arrest, or go back to headquarters empty-handed? EPR was high priority; Saitou was with her, and the rest of her team was close by.

"Let's go!" she told Saitou, and they raced down the alley where Grebe and his pursuer had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

Hei sprinted across the flat tops of a row of shipping containers, on a route calculated to cut off his target. The sun had just dropped below the horizon, leaving an eerie, twilit blue haze cloaking the dockyard. The contractor he hunted was running a blind maze, a shadowy canyon between the towering stacks of metal containers. From Hei's vantage point atop columns three or four containers high, he could see each and every turn that the man would be forced to take.

What he didn't know was where the other contractor was, whether she'd managed to follow the target into the shipping yard or not. Hei was working solo this night, and without Yin he was almost as blind as the target. He'd seen that other contractor lying in wait, and so hadn't interfered when she attacked; it didn't matter who Hei took the envelope from, so long as he took it. But she'd botched the job, leaving Hei free to pursue his quarry.

The target veered right around the end of a row of containers; Hei whipped his carabiner around one of the twistlock fittings of the container beneath his feet and swung to the ground, his cable breaking his fall before he broke a leg. He cut the cable loose just as the target finished rounding the corner - the contractor had just enough time to look surprised at the sight of a masked man rising from a crouch in front of him before Hei caught the man's face in a black-gloved hand and electrocuted him. Hei removed his hand, and the contractor crumpled face-first onto the ground.

Hei's lungs were heaving; it had been a long hard sprint. He took off his mask to get some more air, then crouched down and turned the dead man over. The envelope was in an inner pocket of the man's jacket. Good. He would leave this at the dead drop and still have plenty of time to get over to Misaki's.

His briefing last night had been long for such a simple job; then he'd decided that it would be best to scout out the area beforehand. He'd had to do that in the dead of night, before the early morning dockyard shifts began. By the time he'd made it to Misaki's apartment, dawn had been close and she'd been sound asleep in bed, her mouth open slightly and one hand tangled in her long hair. Not wanting to wake her so late - well, early - he'd settled onto the floor next to her bed and dozed, lulled by the sound of her soft, even breathing, until it was time for him to leave. While it was better than not seeing her at all, he much preferred having the whole night together.

The sound of rapid footsteps sounded suddenly in his ears. Hei tucked the envelope into his coat and stood. That female contractor must have caught up. He drew one of his knives and tensed to throw as a figure dashed around the corner of the wall of containers.

A large figure. Too large. _Saitou! _

Hei recognized the police detective just in time to keep the knife within his grip.

Saitou skidded to a stop at the sight of Hei in his black trench coat; he raised his gun and barked, "Don't move!"

Hei's mind raced through his choices. He could throw the knife as a distraction; that would free up his hand to throw the carabiner and climb up to the top of the stack before Saitou recovered. It all depended on the larger man's reflexes - if he was quick, he might get off a deadly shot before Hei had a chance to -

Saitou's gaze flicked from Hei, to the body on the ground, then back to Hei and the knife in his hand. The detective's eyes widened. "_Li?_"

_Shit_. He'd forgotten that he wasn't wearing his mask. This was going to be tricky. "Um," he said, trying to surreptitiously hide the knife. "Saitou?"

Saitou's grip on his gun visibly tightened, a look of confusion and almost panic on his face. "_You're_ BK-201? Drop the knife!"

Bluffing clearly wasn't going to work. "Think carefully about what you're doing," Hei warned in a low voice. He brought the knife down a little more; enough that he hoped that it would look like he was complying with Saitou's order but still in a position for an underhand throw.

"Backup is on the way," Saitou said, his arms so tense that his elbows must be locked. "Come quietly. Try anything and I'll shoot."

"Will you?" It was an honest question. Misaki wouldn't hesitate, he knew, but Saitou was quite a bit softer than she was.

A look of doubt crossed Saitou's face; just for a moment, but it was enough.

Hei took a step forward. Saitou instinctively shifted his weight to his back foot and Hei lunged, pushing Saitou's arms up and slamming his shoulder into his chest. The big man toppled backwards, Hei falling with him; the gun dropped to the ground. Hei rolled to a crouch and was about to spring up and knock the detective out when an earth-shattering crash sounded behind him. A whoosh of air kicked up a storm of dust as vibrations traveled through the pavement.

Hei shielded his eyes with his hands and turned. An entire column of containers had fallen onto the exact spot where he and Saitou had been standing just a moment before - it had missed them by inches.

The metal-manipulating contractor had found them.

A blue glow from above caught his eye and he looked up. She was standing on top of the column directly above them. Without hesitation, Hei threw his knife. She snatched it out of the air using her power, then flipped it in her hand to throw it back down at him - and looked in confusion at the cable attached to the hilt. Hei sent a killing current through the cable, then tugged. The knife fell back to the ground, followed immediately by the dead contractor. Her body hit the concrete with a sickening crunch.

Saitou was slowly pushing himself up off the ground. His eyes were on the gun, lying several feet away. Hei was closer; he walked deliberately to the weapon, picked it up in a black-gloved hand, and straightened again. He hid his relief at being back in control of the situation behind an emotionless expression and aimed the gun dead center at Saitou's chest. The other man froze in a half-crouch, bracing himself against the side of a container.

"Here's what's going to happen," Hei said in his coldest voice. "I'm going to erase your memory of having seen me; you aren't going to struggle."

"Bullshit," Saitou growled. "You're just going to kill me."

"If I was just going to kill you, I would have shot you already. Don't struggle, and you won't get hurt. Try and fight me, and I will kill you. It's the same thing I told Misaki, and she's still alive, isn't she," he added, seeing the look of disbelief on the detective's face.

It was the wrong thing to say.

Saitou tensed, and glowered at him. "Don't you say her name!"

_Damn_. This could get messy. Hei was sure that he was faster, but Saitou had the advantage of size. It wasn't going to be easy knocking him out without hurting the man.

But before he could say another word, the sound of pounding footsteps announced another arrival. Hei swept his arm ninety degrees and fixed his aim on the newcomer just as they rounded the corner - only to find himself face to face with Misaki.

She had her weapon aimed directly at his head. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and a stray lock of hair had drifted across her face. Her eyes widened with recognition, but she didn't waver for an instant. For one long, tense beat they stood there, guns pointed at each other; then Hei slowly lowered his arm. Never taking his eyes from Misaki, he ejected the clip and the bullet from the chamber in a practiced motion and tossed the empty weapon at Saitou, who didn't move to catch it. It bounced off his chest and fell to the ground with a clatter that seemed to echo louder than any gunshot in the metal canyon.

Misaki let out her breath in a tired sigh, and, to Hei's surprise, holstered her own weapon. Then she brushed the hair out of her eyes and turned to Saitou. "Are you alright?"

He gaped at her like a fish out of water. "Chief, don't! He's not Li, he's -"

"- going to tell me what the hell happened here!" Misaki snapped at Hei. Apparently satisfied that her subordinate was unhurt, she was now ignoring him completely.

Hei looked at her blankly. What did she _think_ had happened? "A contractor tried to crush me under a shipping container. Then I killed her."

"Who was she?" Misaki glanced down at the broken body, then quickly looked away again. That surprised Hei; she'd seen more than her fair share of dead contractors, why would this one make her squeamish?

"I don't know."

Misaki gave him a hard look. "You weren't sent to kill her?" When Hei didn't answer, she continued, "There was another contractor, a man with long hair in a ponytail. Did you see him?"

Hei glanced over his shoulder at the pile of heavy, crushing containers.

Misaki swore, her brow furrowed. "I hope whatever was in that envelope wasn't destroyed. Saitou, we'll have to coordinate with the dockyard to get those containers shifted as soon as possible."

Saitou was looking between the two of them with an expression of utter confusion. "Chief…?" he said, rising slowly to his feet.

"In the meantime," Misaki continued, ignoring Saitou once again, "you can answer my questions. I'm guessing that you were after him," she indicated the mess behind Hei, "rather than the woman. You were both sent to interrupt the exchange and take whatever was in the envelope that my informant received, right?"

Again, Hei remained silent. Was Misaki interrogating him for Saitou's sake? He was going to have to erase the man's memory no matter what, so this whole charade was pointless. But…Misaki didn't appear to be acting.

Her eyes narrowed, and she placed her hand on the grip of her gun. "I'll arrest you and question you at headquarters if you prefer."

Hei's pulse quickened. "You can try," he said, meeting the challenge in her voice. "But even if you do manage to take me, I won't talk, and I guarantee I'll either be dead or gone from the city within the hour." It wasn't an idle threat; he'd been working for the Syndicate long enough to know exactly how they dealt with operatives who were captured. He hoped that this was just a performance and that she didn't mean to try and arrest him. Even worse than the possibility of being killed was the thought of having to flee the city. He'd never see her again.

"Hei, you need to give me something here," she said, and he was shocked to hear a tremor in her voice. "I can't keep doing this, turning a blind eye to what you do. You're leaving me with nothing but hard choices, while you can just walk away without any consequences!"

Her emotion caught him completely off guard. Hei loved the strength that made up the core of Misaki's being, and it meant something to him that she could set that strength aside and allow him to see her vulnerability. He brought his hand up to the lapel of his coat, then slowed his movement when he saw Misaki's hand return to her gun. Didn't she trust him? Carefully, he retrieved the envelope from an inside pocket and held it out to her. Saitou sucked in his breath but didn't say anything, clearly torn between trusting that his chief knew what she was doing and wanting to warn her to keep out of danger.

Misaki stepped forward and took the envelope gingerly, meeting his eyes only briefly. He didn't know what hurt more, her surprise or her hesitation at coming closer to him. At least she'd let go of her weapon.

"Do you know what's in this?" she asked.

"No."

Misaki handed the envelope over to Saitou. "Let's see what it is," she said to her subordinate.

Saitou was clearly reluctant to take his eyes off of the Black Reaper, but he ran a finger under the seal and ripped it open. He removed a single sheet of paper. "It's got a title…._Oenothera_," he said, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. "Then it's just a list: _affinis, albicaulis, biennis, canescens, cinerea, flava, gaura, hartwegii, linifolia, pallida, picensis, rosea, triloba._ That's it."

"What the hell?" Misaki muttered, rubbing her forehead tiredly. She looked at Hei. "Does any of that mean anything to you?"

He shook his head. Some of it sounded vaguely like Spanish or Portuguese, but he'd never heard any of those words before.

"Alright," Misaki said. "We can try and puzzle it out tomorrow. Saitou, let's call in Kouno and Matsumoto and start processing the scene." Then she turned back to Hei.

"Thanks for this," she said, her voice finally softening to a tone he was more accustomed to hearing from her. "I'll let you go now."

"Not yet."

Her eyebrows raised at his words, then furrowed in worry when he glanced significantly toward Saitou. "That's not really necessary," she said. "I'll explain things to Saitou; I trust him."

Hei wondered exactly how much of those "things" Misaki was planning on explaining. But it didn't matter; she might trust him, but Hei didn't. He didn't doubt Saitou's loyalty to his chief, but the man was more than a little in love with Misaki. He wouldn't keep secret her arrangement with BK-201 if he thought it was putting her in danger.

"No," Hei said. Misaki's mouth pressed into a thin line, and Hei worried that she was going to try and argue with him. Or worse, try and stop him.

"Uh, Chief, what's going on? Have you been working with BK-201?"

"No," she said flatly, and crossed her arms. "Yes. Sort of. It's…complicated. Well, are you going to do it or not?"

This last was directed at Hei. He had expected her to want to leave the area first, or at least look away. Then he realized that that was stupid. Of course she wasn't going to leave her subordinate alone in such a situation. And she was going to watch, no matter how much it hurt her.

Saitou was looking slightly bewildered. "Do wha - "

Hei stepped up swiftly behind the detective and sent a shock through his temple - just enough to knock him out and disrupt his memory of the past couple of hours. Misaki flinched slightly as Saitou collapsed; Hei caught the larger man under the arms and lowered him as best he could to the ground, staggering a little under the weight. The piece of paper fell from the detective's limp grasp and fluttered to the pavement.

Misaki already had her phone out and was dialing. "You'd better leave now," she said without looking at him. "And…it's probably best if you don't come by tonight. I can't…I just can't." With that, she put the phone up to her ear and turned her back on him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hei left the signal at the dead drop that meant "_mission failed_". Misaki had been right; it cost him nothing whether he kept the envelope, or handed it over to her. All he had to do was claim that the envelope had been lost when that female contractor had attacked, and the police had gotten to it first. Misaki, on the other hand, had had to see all her hard work come to nothing, and then watch as he attacked someone that she was responsible for.

Not for the first time, Hei wondered exactly why they were still pursuing this relationship. It seemed to cause more problems than it was worth. It was exhausting trying to keep it a secret from Huang and Mao. It would earn him - and possibly Misaki as well - a death sentence from the Syndicate if they were discovered.

But he couldn't stay away from her. Even now, instead of dropping off his gear at a safe house and going home, he was headed towards her apartment.

It wasn't very late - just past nine - and most of the lights in Misaki's building were still on. Hei took up his usual station in a shadowy corner across the street. Misaki's windows were dark. No doubt she was still at the dockyard, directing the clean-up. He didn't envy her that task - but she was good at giving orders. She seemed to thrive off of being in charge; probably because leadership wasn't something that she purposefully sought out. She just wanted to do what she could to protect other people. If that meant leading, then that's what she did.

People passed him on the sidewalk on their way home from late dinners and social gatherings, unaware that the Black Reaper was lurking just beyond their sight. The fake stars twinkled overhead - two less than had been there last night. What was he doing here, anyway? He ought to go home and get some sleep; but he wasn't sure that he _could_ sleep anymore, not without her next to him. Even if it was just one night.

…when she'd said that she didn't want to see him, she had meant just tonight, hadn't she? He felt a brief stab of panic at the thought that she meant to break things off with him completely. If she did, it would be his own damn fault for letting himself get involved with her in the first place; he could hardly believe that they'd lasted as long as they had. But that didn't make the thought any easier to contemplate.

He noticed with a start that Misaki's living room light was now on. She was home. He wanted nothing more than to climb in through her window, take her in his arms, and make love to her until she collapsed from pure pleasure. But he wouldn't. She'd told him that she didn't want to see him, and he wouldn't betray her like that.

The light in Misaki's bedroom window flickered on. Was he going to stand outside her building all night, like some pathetic, spurned Romeo? He sighed dejectedly to himself. Probably. He ought to go home, and take advantage of this perfect opportunity to end this misguided affair. It would be as clean an ending as they could possibly hope for, and the safest thing for them both.

Then a motion at the side of the window caught his eye. The curtain was being brushed aside. It was Misaki…hanging up her scarf.

His mouth went dry. Had she changed her mind? How did she even guess that he was outside, when she'd told him not to come by? The thought that she still trusted him and wanted to see him anchored itself firmly in his mind, yet he hesitated. She had been upset with him tonight. Of course she had been: he'd killed two contractors on her watch, assaulted her subordinate, and - from her perspective - nearly shot her. It was possible that he'd finally pushed her too far. Every night he warned himself that she couldn't ignore the fact that he was an assassin forever. She could be worried that her deciding to break things off would nullify their agreement and that he would attempt to kill her or wipe her mind. The scarf could be nothing more than bait for a trap.

Hei spent another two hours in the shadows below her apartment, watching, waiting, and turning over every possibility in his mind, all the while cursing himself for such indecisiveness. He acted, or he reacted. He didn't sit around waffling. Finally, pragmatism gave way to hope, and he decided.

The climb up to Misaki's fifth-floor balcony was quick and easy with the help of his carabiner and wire. After pulling himself over the railing, Hei tucked his gloves into his belt, then pressed himself against the wall lest his silhouette be visible from the street. He peeked at the sliding glass door. The curtains in front of it were closed, but there was enough of a gap that he could see a narrow slice of the room inside.

Misaki was seated on the floor in front of her coffee table, long legs curled up beneath her. A mess of papers and what looked like an encyclopedia were spread out on the table; Hei would bet anything that one of those papers was a photocopy of the list that had been in that envelope tonight.

She was still in her work clothes, though shoe-less and jacket-less: a dove gray suit with a sky blue button-up blouse. Hei loved that color blue on her. The top two buttons on her blouse were undone so that the shirt gaped open at the neck, and the sleeves were rolled up. He wondered idly if she was wearing that blue lingerie set, then wished that he hadn't. This was worse than waiting down below.

He watched her put a hand to her back briefly, as if in some kind of pain; then she took a cautious sip from a steaming mug and made another notation on the page in front of her. As far as he could tell, there was no one else in the apartment, no sign that anyone was lying in wait to arrest him. He took a deep breath, and quietly slid the glass door open, slipping through and into the room.

Misaki looked up in surprise at the sound of the door sliding shut. Then her eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you that I didn't want to see you," she said darkly.

So, not a trap; apparently not a good idea, either. "You hung up the scarf," Hei said, trying to keep any hint of hope from his voice.

Misaki opened her mouth as if to deny it, then closed it again and glanced over her shoulder towards the bedroom. "Oh," she muttered. "Force of habit."

An awkward silence stretched out before them. Misaki stared down at the table, her arms folded.

"I'll go," Hei said at last, when it became clear that she really didn't welcome his presence. "Sorry."

He reached for the door to head back out onto the balcony, but Misaki's voice stopped him. "Wait."

It wasn't a plea; there was no forgiveness in her tone. He turned back. She was staring at him from behind her glasses with a piercing, almost predatory look.

"Since you're here, you might as well stay." She shut the encyclopedia and briskly swept her papers up into a tidy stack. Then she got up and went to the narrow table in the entryway where she kept her purse. She leaned on the table, tapping her fingers on the polished wood, while she looked him up and down. It was the kind of look that a hungry cat gives to a side of beef hanging in the butcher shop window.

He would almost have preferred finding a special ops team here instead of this strange, dangerous Misaki.

After a long moment, she stopped her tapping and rummaged around in her purse. She pulled something out and tossed it at him. "Put those on."

He caught the object reflexively; hard lines and cold metal. He frowned. "I meant what I said about you arresting me."

Misaki raised an eyebrow, one hand on her hip. It was a very un-Misaki-like pose. Those undone buttons on her blouse revealed a curve of breast and an inviting glimpse of…red? "Who said anything about arresting? Leave your coat and knives here, then meet me in the bedroom."

She started down the hallway, but paused at the door to the bedroom and looked at him over her shoulder.

"Do you have your mask?" It was more of a demand than a question.

"Uh," he said.

"Good. Wear it." With that, she vanished into the room.

Hei stared after her in stunned surprise. Did she mean…he felt his face flush, and looked down at the handcuffs in his hand. They felt heavier than they had any right to be.

"And those go _behind_, not in front," Misaki called out.

At the sound of her voice - oddly cold though it still was - he felt his uneasiness give way to an unhealthy curiosity. And desire. Without making a conscious decision, he shrugged off his coat, dropped his weapons harness onto the sofa, and pulled out his mask and fitted it over his face. Then he positioned his arms behind his back and snapped the cuffs shut around his wrists. The click of the locks engaging was ominously loud in his ears.

With no small amount of trepidation, he followed Misaki into the bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** **Warning: herein lies lemon.  
**

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Misaki was turning down the covers of the bed when Hei walked in. Her bedroom was modern in style, all smooth, clean lines and efficient use of space, dressed up in cool blues, grays, and white, with a splash of cheery yellow here and there. The silver metal headboard of her bed formed a pattern of geometric squares, an industrial look that was softened by her gray-blue duvet. Deep blue curtains framed the window, hiding the blinds and the scarf hanging behind them. It was the perfect oasis from the stresses of her daily life.

The only light came from a small, swing-arm reading lamp screwed into the wall above the bedside table. It cast a warm, diffuse glow around the bed. Hei had seen the room in such an atmosphere many times before, but never with his mask on. Now, the space seemed strange, full of shadows - foreign somehow, as if it wasn't the same room at all. Maybe it wasn't.

Misaki, still occupied with the bedding, looked up at him sharply. "Wait there."

Hei halted obediently just inside the room, and watched with a nervous amusement as she smoothed out the folded duvet and plumped the white-cased pillows. She was stalling.

Then she walked around the bed and came face-to-face with him, arms folded, and he stopped being amused. Save for those top two buttons, she was still fully dressed. With her hair tied back and her warm brown eyes partially hidden behind her glasses, she was every inch Section Chief Kirihara. Hei's heart pounded in his chest. This was the woman who just hours ago had stared into the face of death at the hands of the Black Reaper without so much as a flinch. She wore that fierceness now, and it made his blood rush straight to his groin.

Misaki looked him up and down, as she had out in the main room, and walked a slow circle around him. He felt a slight tug on the chain linking the handcuffs together; she was checking to make sure he'd secured them properly. It made him nervous to have her behind him like that, though he didn't know why. She completed her circuit and stood in front of him once again. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she gazed into the eyes of his mask for a long moment, and he wondered if she was going to call for backup to arrest him after all.

But then she reached a hand up to his mask. He felt a slight, moving pressure on his right cheek, and realized that she must be tracing the path of the purple lightning bolt.

"BK-201," she murmured. "I have you, exactly where I want you…so what am I going to do with you?"

That was strange; usually when they were together, she did her best to pretend that he wasn't the Black Reaper. He felt the gentle touch of her fingers at the interface between skin and mask. Slowly, she ran her fingertip along that edge, barely brushing his skin, all the way down to the tip of his chin. Her expression looked fascinated, as if she'd never seen him so close before. His breath hitched; he ached for her to remove his mask so that he could take her lips in his own.

But she didn't. Misaki's fingertip continued on a path down his throat and over the collar of his skin-tight shirt. While she traced random patterns on his chest, she slid her other hand up behind his head. Weaving her fingers into his hair, she tugged sharply so that he tilted his head back and he felt her warm lips on his throat. She kissed him lightly, delicately; the touch of the tip of her tongue sent a shiver down his spine and he strained against the handcuffs that prevented him from holding her.

"None of that," Misaki warned in a low voice. Her grip on his hair tightened painfully. "It'll only go harder for you if you struggle."

He wished that she hadn't said that word. His arousal was already uncomfortably constrained within his shorts; it wasn't the struggling that was making it worse.

Misaki's hand was now making a circular motion just below the side of his ribcage, and Hei realized with a start that her movements weren't random at all. She was tracing, through the cloth of his shirt, the invisible outlines of his scars. She knew each one by touch alone.

She finished with the scar under his rib, and trailed her hand further down. His skin was hot and prickly beneath the stifling mask - when was she going to let him out of the cuffs?

Not any time soon, it quickly become apparent. Her hand skipped over his belt and went straight to the bulge in his pants. She squeezed and caressed him through the black fabric, alternating a soft, tender touch with an almost painful grasp. He groaned with each movement of her fingers, the sound muffled behind the mask.

"Do you want me to let you out?" she murmured into his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest. "I can…or I can keep you trapped, and torture you like this all night." She tightened her grip, and he gasped. "You're in my complete control."

Abruptly she let him go, releasing her hold on his hair as well, and turned her focus to his belt. Hei, his breathing getting heavier by the second, watched her remove the gloves that he had tucked there and drop them onto the floor, one at a time. Her face was just as flushed now as he was sure his own must be. She threaded her hands around his waist, between his back and his bound arms, and deftly undid the clasp that had given her so much trouble that first time she'd undressed him. The ends of the belt snaked through the belt loops as she pulled it forward. It dropped to the ground next to his gloves.

Misaki rested her hands on his hips, toying with the waistband of his pants. He loved the fearless way she touched him; he was dying for her to lift his shirt, to feel her warm hands on his bare skin.

A sudden frown creased her face. "I thought I told you to leave your _all_ knives out there," she said.

_All…_she must mean the small dagger on his leg. He was still wearing it.

"I forg- " The slap took him by surprise; his mask shifted slightly where her fingers caught the edge of it, his jawline stinging from the blow.

"I didn't say you could speak!" Misaki snapped, shaking her hand a little.

Hei had never seen her so angry, on the verge of losing control like this. He was torn between the desire to take her hand in his and try to soothe away her pain, and the urge to seize her by the wrists and imprison her in his arms, where she couldn't hurt herself again. Either move would probably just anger her more; but it didn't matter, because he was in no position to do anything except stand there and let her have her way with him.

Misaki roughly unbuckled the strap holding the knife to his leg and threw it to the side. With just as little ceremony, she tugged his pants down over his hips and let them drop to the floor. Gripping the waistband of his undershorts, she pulled them down, freeing his erection at last.

Her eyes were fixed on his, as if daring him to make a move or object. She took him in her fist and began slowly pumping the length of him. Hei sucked in a sharp breath at her light touch. As good as it felt, though, it wasn't enough. He needed his hands in her hair, her legs wrapped around him. He needed those damned cuffs off.

Then she glanced down. Without letting up, she sank to her knees in front of him. She'd offered to do this for him once before, when she was on her period and too uncomfortable to have sex. He'd declined; he hated the idea of her doing something so intimate and pleasurable for him without getting anything in return.

"You don't have to -" he tried, and the smack that left his bare ass stinging had the full force of her arm behind it.

"That was your last warning," she said, her voice dangerously low. Then she wet her lips, and took his tip in her mouth.

Hei closed his eyes, struggling against the sensations that were flooding his body. Her mouth was gliding up and down him now, taking him deeper with each stroke, her tongue caressing the underside of his shaft. His hips rocked forward involuntarily; her nails dug into the back of his thigh in what he was sure was a warning not to move again.

Her speed picked up slightly; Hei risked a glance down and was shocked to see a look of pleasure on Misaki's face. It had never occurred to him that she might have been offering in the past because she _wanted_ to do it, for herself. Seeing her so wholly consumed with the enjoyment of her task brought him quickly to the edge and he shuddered, trying desperately to restrain himself.

Misaki must have picked up on his desperation, because she pulled away abruptly, rocking back on her heels. Hei was a little relieved, despite his aching need.

"On the bed," she directed in a husky voice. She gripped his forearms to pull herself up, a little unsteadily, then gave him a small push towards the bed.

He made his awkward way over and sat. The cool sheets felt good on his still-stinging skin. Using his cuffed hands to steady himself, he positioned himself in the center of the mattress and waited, wondering what she had in mind.

Misaki couldn't see his eyes behind his mask, but she nevertheless held his gaze as she slowly unbuttoned her pants. She was torturing him on purpose, he was sure; she knew that he loved to undress her himself. He could imagine the feel of her smooth, firm skin beneath his hands as he watched her tug the garment down over her narrow hips. She stepped out of the pants, exposing long, gorgeous legs. How long had it been since his lips had last touched those legs, making their way up to her center, one delicious inch at a time? Two days, at least. Too long.

The tails of her blue shirt covered most of her panties, but as she walked towards the bed he caught the occasional flash of crimson and black lace. She must have bought something new. Hei took a deep breath, trying in vain to control his body's reactions to the prospect of seeing her in new lingerie.

Misaki climbed onto the bed and straddled him, holding onto his tensed biceps for balance. Her blouse was still buttoned save for the top two, hiding away her full breasts. Hei angled his head, hoping for a glimpse, but she grabbed his hair and jerked his gaze back up to her face.

"Eyes here," she ordered, and ground her hips forward, trapping his erection between her mound and his stomach. Hei's groan caught in his throat. Her glasses slipped down on her nose a little as she rolled her hips again and again. The contrast between the starched fabric of her shirt and the silky lingerie on his sensitized skin was exquisite.

Hei could see the strain on her face as she tried to ignore her own growing arousal. Finally she placed a splayed hand on his black-shirted chest and pushed. "Lie back," she said, panting a little.

He did as she told him to, his bound hands forming an uncomfortable knot beneath the small of his back. Above him, Misaki took one finger and pulled aside the lacy crotch of her panties, revealing her swollen and glistening labia. Hei could hardly breathe beneath the mask now. With her other hand, she guided his tip into the entrance of her slit. He felt her silky wet folds caressing him, and it was all he could do not to thrust up and into her. A slight smirk played across her lips, and he was sure that she could sense his impatience.

But he resisted. If this was what she needed, then he would let her take it.

Misaki teased him for another long minute, shuddering a little every time her movements brought him brushing across her clit. A few strands of her hair had come loose and were sticking to her sweat-dampened forehead. Hei could feel his resistance crumbling around him, and held on with every ounce of control that he had. Finally, with a low moan, she pushed down; the feel of her hot, tight sheath encasing him drove the breath from his lungs.

Hei couldn't take his eyes away from her face now. She leaned slightly forward over him, bracing herself on his shoulders. Her glasses slid a little further down her nose, giving her face a sharper, more angular look than he was used to seeing when they made love. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted; if his hands hadn't been restrained, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop himself from throwing her down beneath him and pounding into her until she came, shouting his name. Each rocking movement of her hips brought him closer and closer to the edge, each squeeze of her internal muscles threatening to send him over. He'd never been so frustrated in his life as he was now, at his simple inability to touch her.

She twisted her pelvis in a motion that she knew drove him mad, and the tiny gasp of pleasure that escaped her throat was suddenly too much. His hips twitched involuntarily and he came inside of her with a guttural moan. Misaki's breath caught in surprise; she pumped up and down once, twice; then she leaned her forearms against his heaving chest and opened her eyes.

"Fuck," she breathed, looking completely exhausted and not at all satisfied. Her hair fell across his face, but he couldn't feel it through his mask. She raised herself up a little, releasing him and tugging her panties back into place. Her inner thighs were wet and gleaming.

Misaki stared at him pensively for a moment as she brushed the hair out of her flushed face, then averted her eyes and said softly, "I'll go get the key." She rolled stiffly off the bed and padded out of the room. Hei watched her go, noting the way she pulled her shirt down to make sure that it covered her beautiful, tight ass.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath. She hadn't come; and even though he had, it somehow felt..off. Wrong. As if she'd taken his release from him by force, rather than him giving it to her. He'd had his physical relief, but emotionally he felt more bereft and alone than he had waiting outside her building, wondering if she still cared anything for him. If she'd stayed, he could have finished her; he didn't need his hands for that. But somehow he didn't think that it would have been very satisfying for either of them.

His hands were starting to go numb beneath the weight of his body. She hadn't needed to restrain him - he was already hers.

Why had she? He always let her take the lead in the bedroom - she liked being in charge, and he was used to taking orders. It was easier that way; he didn't have to worry about hurting her or frightening her by accident. It wasn't usually a problem - they both preferred tender, mutually-pleasing lovemaking. But tonight, she'd clearly wanted something different, and he didn't know what it was.

Except…she'd called him BK-201. She hadn't called him that since before she'd found out who he really was. She'd wanted the Black Reaper here tonight, not Hei. He remembered the exhilaration of their earlier standoff, the deadly determination in her eyes as she faced him down and he waited for her to shoot him, and his pulse immediately quickened again.

Hei _was_ BK-201; it was easy to forget, when he was with her. He never should have let her put those cuffs on him.

But she hadn't, had she. He'd done it to himself. That had been his mistake. And hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Trigger warning: BDSM, rape-play, general kinkiness**

* * *

Misaki splashed some more cold water on her face, then picked up a hand towel. She massaged her temples for a minute, burying her face in the thick nap of the towel, and leaned onto the counter.

What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't shake the anger that she'd been holding onto all evening. She felt lost, like she was spinning out of control. Here she was, hiding from her own lover in the bathroom. Hei was still in the bedroom, arms still bound behind his back. She'd told him that she was going to get the key to the cuffs, but had ducked into the bathroom when she'd felt the tears brimming in her eyes.

She couldn't let him see her cry.

She'd lost a solid source of intel tonight, because of him. Sure, he'd given her the envelope after she'd lowered herself to beg him for something, anything - but who knew how much else they could have gotten out of the informant, if Hei hadn't killed him. And then Hei had had the temerity to show up in her living room, after she'd expressly told him not to.

Misaki folded the towel on the counter and put her glasses back on, taking in her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was starting to come undone; there were damp patches on the underarms of her shirt, and she could feel the sweat still running down her back. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed, and the lace on her new bra was itching.

She'd seen the bra in a store window on her lunch break the day before, and bought it on impulse - the red reminded her of the dress she'd worn the night she first met Hei. Trimmed in copious black lace and cut scandalously low with the clasp in the front and push-up pads in the cups, it was far sexier than anything else that she owned, and she'd been too embarrassed to wear it last night. She wasn't even sure if Hei would like her in it. But then he hadn't come by and, missing him, she'd decided to wear it and the matching panties when she dressed for work in the morning.

But it had been bothering her all day. She felt odd, like she was wearing someone else's skin. Not herself.

She still felt like crying, and hated herself for it. Everything had made sense in her head, before. She had no control over the world outside of her apartment, but she'd thought that by putting the Black Reaper in handcuffs, placing him under her power, she could get some of that control back. It hadn't worked. At all.

It'd been hard to tell with his mask hiding his eyes, but she didn't think that he'd enjoyed it tonight.

_He wasn't supposed to enjoy it_, she told herself. _He deserved it - electrocuting Saitou, killing those contractors, pointing a gun at you; showing up when you told him to stay away!_ But it didn't make her feel any better. Because while she'd enjoyed herself in the beginning - teasing him, touching him in ways in which he'd never encouraged her to before -, something about the whole thing had felt off, and in the end she hadn't found…whatever it was that she'd been looking for.

He was just so passive about everything. About her. Yes, he was passionate and tender and loving when they were alone together; but if he'd wanted to see her tonight, why didn't he argue when she told him to leave? Why didn't he fight? It was infuriating - weren't contractors _supposed_ to be selfish?

Misaki was still a little shocked that Hei had consented to being handcuffed. When he'd walked into the bedroom wearing that mask, her knees had gone a little weak. She knew that he trusted her not to reveal his identity, but this was definitely taking things a step further. Thank goodness it hadn't been too far; she didn't want to lose him.

And yet, seeing him standing there, calmly unresisting, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he could have gotten out of those cuffs any time that he wanted to. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the thought. He'd let her play her game, let her imagine that she had some kind of control over him - when in reality, he held all the power.

That was what she wanted, she realized with a chill. She wanted him to take control over her, to show her that his desire for her was every bit as powerful as hers was for him. She couldn't imagine letting any other man do the things to her that she'd fantasized about - just him. She'd never even _had_ those thoughts before him. And that scared the hell out of her.

But she couldn't ask him to do it - that would defeat the purpose entirely, besides being absolutely mortifying. And if he'd spent tonight giving in to her whims, suffering in silence as she used him for her own ends, he never _was_ going to do it.

_Well, so what if he doesn't conform to your crazy fantasies?_ she chided herself. _Are you going to give up everything that you _do_ have together because of something stupid like that? _Why would he have stopped by tonight at all, if he didn't care about her?

And then she'd turned around and done this to him. Misaki rubbed at her lower back tiredly. Hei would massage it for her, if she asked. Although, he'd most likely just want to leave, once she took the cuffs off for him. She couldn't ask him to stay. She had no idea if he would forgive her for tonight or not; she prayed that he would. Her stomach felt a little queasy at the prospect of having to go back into the bedroom after what had just happened, and face him.

Damn. He was still in the bedroom. Still handcuffed.

Misaki didn't bother trying to fix her hair. She exited the bathroom, flicking off the lights as she went, and headed out to the main room. It took her a minute to find the handcuff keys in her purse - they were buried beneath a wad of receipts that she hadn't had time to file yet; she needed to get that mess cleaned up. Clutching the keys tightly, she returned to the bedroom.

"Hei," she said, walking in, "I'm sorry. I -"

The bed was empty, except for a pair of open handcuffs resting on the rumpled white sheets. His clothes were gone from the floor.

Her heart sank; she'd pushed him too far, after all. Misaki walked over to the bed and picked up the cuffs. The surface of the metal was still a little wet from his sweat. She wiped her thumb across it sadly.

Well, she'd hang her scarf again tomorrow night. Maybe he'd -

A gloved hand grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her back, pulling her against a hard body. Before she could even gasp in shock, leather fingers wrapped around her throat. The cuffs and keys fell from her grasp.

Smooth, cool ceramic pressed against her cheek, and a low voice said in her ear, "You didn't think it would be that easy to take me did you, Chief Kirihara?"

The old memory of knives in the dark and a suffocating squeezing swam up from the depths of her mind, and her blood spiked with adrenaline. For a moment, she was afraid. But with the familiar feel of his toned chest against her back, the heady scent of metal and sweat, a hot flood of pure desire quickly washed out the fear.

"No," she exhaled breathlessly, a slight smile tugging at her lips. She reached up with her free hand and gently squeezed the arm at her throat - but she didn't try to pull it away.

In a single, swift move, he spun her around and pushed her roughly backwards onto the bed. Misaki bounced on the mattress, instinctively drawing her knees up. She scooted towards the center, never taking her eyes away from him.

BK-201 stood at the edge of the bed, gazing at her from behind his expressionless mask. He was fully dressed again. The firm contours of his muscles were easily visible beneath his tight shirt; the slightly looser black pants emphasized his lean athleticism. She itched to feel his skillful hands on her body. Even unmoving, he had a feral sort of grace about him. She was acutely aware that she was wearing nothing but a thin shirt and lingerie, and pressed her thighs together reflexively.

Then she saw the handcuffs that were held loosely in one black-gloved hand, and her heart fluttered madly in her chest.

Misaki backed up one inch; then another. She licked her lips nervously. If she could put the bed between them…

The Black Reaper never even twitched a muscle, just watched her with the deadly patience of a hunting panther. She gathered her courage, then lunged to the side in a burst of movement - but he was faster. He sprang onto the bed and caught her wrist in one of the cuffs as if collaring an escaped animal; then he pulled, jerking her back onto the bed. But as she fell back, she twisted her hips underneath her and used her momentum to bring her free arm around in a shot-put-style throw.

She almost caught him by surprise. Almost. Instead of landing her punch on his jaw like she'd planned, she clipped the edge of his ear as he knocked her arm away with his elbow. Thrown off balance, she landed face-first on the mattress. Before she could recover, he'd caught her other hand in his.

Misaki struggled in his grip, panting with effort, but his gloves may as well have been made out of iron for all the good that it did her. He climbed up onto the bed on his knees. Pinning her wrists together above her head, he straddled her and dragged her bodily towards the headboard. He had to let go of one arm to pass the empty cuff around one of the metal bars; she pushed up weakly at his solid chest once, then her arm was back in his grasp. He closed the cuff around her wrist with a snap, securing her to the base of the frame.

Kneeling above her, BK-201 regarded his captive calmly. Misaki was slightly gratified to see that he was breathing heavily, if not as heavily as she was. Then she gasped as he gripped her hips and pulled, stretching her out beneath him. The cuffs tugged at her wrists, though not painfully. She lay on her back, head resting between her extended upper arms. Trapped. Hands cuffed, legs pinned between his, she was completely, utterly in his power.

"What are you going to do with me?" The tremor in her voice was all too real.

When he answered, his voice was as cold as steel. "You're about to find out."

A shiver ran down her spine, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud. Almost affectionately, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and replaced her glasses, where they had half-fallen off of her nose. Her shirt had been rucked up above her waist when he'd adjusted her position; now, he took the hem and pulled it back down, straightening it out. Her skin seemed to burn where his gloves brushed her, where the light fabric of his pants pressed against the outsides of her bare thighs.

He made a movement to the side that she couldn't quite track; when his hand came back into view, she couldn't prevent a sharp intake of breath.

Even if she hadn't seen it, she would have recognized his dagger as soon as he placed the icy metal to her throat. The edge of the blade pricked at her skin; she lifted her chin up in an attempt to escape its touch, but he followed her movement exactly. She shut her eyes and tried to block out images of slit throats and pools of sticky dark blood on the pavement, the memory of being bound and helpless in the basement of a rundown bar while the Black Reaper stalked towards her with that very knife.

But then Misaki remembered him leaning over her, and cutting the plastic zip tie that had held her. She remembered the look in his eyes earlier that very night as they'd stood facing each other in the container yard, guns aimed at each other's heads. That look had been…acceptance. He'd expected her to do as she'd always promised and shoot him, and he hadn't been going to make a move to defend himself. Because defending himself would mean hurting her. He'd never done anything to hurt her.

And he never would.

With a blissful sigh, she relaxed completely. She was safe with him. Everything that happened tonight would be his decision, and she could trust him. Misaki let go of her worries about EPR, the stresses of her work, her concern for the future of her relationship with Hei. She gave her control over to him, and was awash in a freedom that she'd never known before. She pulled lightly on the handcuffs; her arms were bound low enough on the frame that her circulation wasn't at all hindered. Rather, the unyielding metal around her wrists made her feel secure.

She opened her eyes to find the pale mask of the Black Reaper above her, his full attention fixed on her face. Slowly, he trailed the feather-light tip of the knife down her exposed throat and she shuddered, goosebumps rising on her flesh in its wake. The blade moved across the hollow of her throat, between her collarbones, and down her sternum, until it reached the first closed button of her blouse.

He hesitated for only a moment. Holding the cloth taut by the hem with one hand, he made a quick slash. The severed buttons tumbled to the mattress beside her. He pulled back the left side of her shirt, then the right, as if unwrapping a gift, revealing her new bra.

He paused then, gazing down at her chest, his breathing visibly constrained. The idea that just the sight of her could affect him like that sent a pleasurable thrill straight to that pulsing cluster of nerves pressed between her thighs, and she suppressed a full-body shudder only with great difficulty.

Hei exhaled audibly, and brought the knife back to her chest, drawing the blade's edge gently along the bra's lacy trim. Misaki hardly dared to breathe; it seemed as if the slightest bit of extra pressure would send the sharp steel biting into her skin.

He slipped the thin blade flat under the ribbon linking the two cups together; Misaki didn't care if he cut through it, the price would be so worth this moment. However, he released his grip on the knife, leaving it to lie between her breasts. The blade was cold on her heated skin, the hilt heavy where it rested on her lower belly.

Hei found the clasp of her bra and deftly unhooked it, laying her open. She'd never felt more exposed than she did now, and she'd never loved it so much. He skimmed a hand beneath the curve of one breast, then the other. The black gloves on her fair skin made his hands look bigger, thicker - a stranger's hands, caressing her with unearned intimacy. Misaki watched in fascination as he circled the pink tip of her breast, the touch of his gloves smooth, cool, and unfamiliar. He pinched and rolled one hardened nipple between his fingers, and she moaned behind tight lips at the mix of pain and pleasure that it brought her.

In the back of her mind, she was slightly disappointed. Handcuffs aside, this wasn't much different than their usual lovemaking. Him wearing the mask did not automatically transform Hei into the Black Reaper, unpredictable and dangerous. But she was just glad that he was still there.

Although, the knife had been rather exciting; maybe he would pick it up again. Thoughts of what he might do with the knife, combined with his caresses, were rapidly increasing the need throbbing between her legs, and she shifted her hips beneath him.

At her movement, his hand left her breast. Forcing her legs slightly apart, he slipped a finger under the waistband of her panties and roughly stroked up her slit. Misaki let out a startled "Oh!" but he took no notice. He withdrew his hand, gloved finger shining with her silky fluid. She felt her face flush in embarrassment at how wet she was.

He drew a circle on her breast, spreading the wetness over her areola and finishing with a dab on the nipple itself, which he pinched hard between thumb and forefinger. He gripped her jaw with his other hand, holding her head firmly. "Don't move," he ordered in the rich, dark voice of the Black Reaper, and her eyes widened.

Only his secure hold on her kept her from jumping at the sight of the faint blue glow of synchrotron radiation that suddenly surrounded him. He sent a trickle of current through his fingers and onto her nipple in a tiny blue-white arc, and she flinched in spite of herself. The knife resting on her belly rose up and down with each shortened breath. But his steady gaze and inflexible grip quickly calmed her, and she focused on the bizarre new sensations.

The electricity was surprisingly pleasant: a light tickle skating along the surface of her skin, propagated by the fluid that he'd spread there. She positively quivered with delight. Gradually he increased the amplitude of the current. The heat spread further, deeper; groaning, she arched her back slightly and pressed her breast into his hand, anything to increase the contact between them. He let go of her chin and slid his hand up the side of her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb in that way that she loved; the leather glove was cool and calming, a strange contrast to the electric tingling that was dancing across her skin beneath his other hand.

Then a stray tail of current reached the center of her chest and jumped to the blade of the knife that lay between her breasts. The shock from the electrified metal turned her moans of pleasure into a gasp of pain.

Hei cut off his power abruptly, hand hovering just above her still-tingling skin.

"No," she whispered, gazing up into his blank mask. "Don't stop; it was just the knife."

With slow deliberation, he grasped the hilt and angled the blade so that the tip was poised to press between her ribs. "Are you telling me - or asking me?"

"Begging," she admitted unashamedly in a strained voice. _"Please_, don't stop!"

With an expert twist of his wrist, the Black Reaper flipped the blade into his other hand and slid it into the sheath on his leg. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, and Misaki squirmed in delicious anticipation.

He worked her even more slowly than he had the first time - teasing her, tormenting her with unpredictable shocks and electrifying caresses. They'd been intimate for nearly two months; by now he knew her body even better than she did herself, and he took full advantage of that knowledge. His hand tangled in her hair, supporting her head with his wide palm. Occasionally he would stroke her taut, ticklish triceps, and she reveled in the sensation.

Her eyes drifted shut against the familiar heat that was building up at her core. He'd hardly touched her below the waist, yet already her stomach muscles were clenching, her toes curling, her hands clutching at the bars of the headboard. Soft, sensual moans escaped her throat as a tight, white-hot spiral gripped her pelvis, twisting her closer to the edge, and -

The electricity vanished. Misaki opened her eyes, lungs heaving; Hei was kneeling over her, hands on either side of her shoulders, very carefully not touching her. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice faint and thready in her ears. Her clit was throbbing painfully, fair to bursting with need.

"Nothing," he said in a calm, emotionless voice that was betrayed by his ragged breathing. Confused, she watched him climb off of the bed and stand. The telltale bulge in his pants made her lick her lips, and she rubbed her thighs together, hoping for some kind of relief.

"Don't." The stern tone, rather than the command itself, shocked her into freezing. "Keep them open."

"What?" Did he not know close she was? He'd never left her hanging like this before.

_Of course he knows_, she realized with a wicked thrill. Her surmise was confirmed when he leaned over, and, running a finger down her cheek, said, "I'm not finished with you yet."

"Oh _god_," she moaned, though whether it was frustration or anticipation that was pounding through her veins, turning her muscles into quivering jelly, she didn't know. But she obeyed, and separated her knees.

Hei turned from her and stalked to the window, where he reached behind the blinds, careful not to let his masked face be seen from the street. When he turned back, he was holding her pink scarf in one hand.

"What are you going to do with that?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. But she knew. Oh, she knew.

He wrapped the other end of the scarf around his gloved hand and tugged, pulling it taut with an audible snap.

"I don't want the police showing up because the neighbors heard you screaming." The cold, cruel certainty with which he said the words set every cell in her body on fire. She'd never seen him so confident before; it was sexy as hell.

As he knelt on the bed beside her, the hilt of his knife brushing her bare leg, Misaki's heart skipped a beat. She flexed her hands in the cuffs. This was BK-201, the Black Reaper. A wanted assassin who knew exactly what he was doing when it came to tying people up and gagging them so that their screams were silenced. She could feel the fear welling up, threatening to overtake her. But it wasn't true fear; it was the kind of fear that you feel on an amusement park ride, when the floor drops out from under you and you scream, but you know that you're perfectly safe.

She knew that she was safe, and she couldn't wait to feel the floor drop.

And yet he hesitated. In a soft voice, Hei said, "If you want me to stop, at any time, make a fist with your hand then open and close it three times. Alright?"

Misaki nodded, heart in her throat. "Alright."

"Are you sure you understand?"

"_Yes_," she pleaded, desperate to feel his touch again. "Just shut up and f-" The silk gag pressed her tongue down as he pulled it snugly around her mouth. Not tight enough to hurt, but there was no way that she'd be able to work it loose. He knotted it expertly behind her head, then gave it a slight tug to be sure that it was secure.

"Do you really think that you're in any position to be giving orders?" he warned her.

She couldn't answer around the gag, so she shook her head.

Still kneeling on the bed beside her, he pushed her legs further apart and gripped the crotch of her panties in his fist. Misaki gasped as the leather gloves brushed against her swollen and sensitive lower lips. "Hips up," he ordered, tugging slightly to emphasize the order.

Misaki lifted her hips slightly off the bed; he hooked a finger in her waistband just above her ass and in a swift movement, pulled the garment down to her thighs. Her quivering muscles gave out and she collapse back onto the mattress. In her heightened state of arousal, she was hyperaware of every sensation. The slightly stiff material of her blouse rubbing her back, the cool, damp sheet beneath her hips, the lace edges of the panties feathering down her legs and around her ankles.

Hei tossed the lingerie to the floor. Then he positioned himself between her legs and leaned over her, braced on his elbows. She hated the handcuffs now, only because they kept her from clutching him.

"Remember the signal?"

Misaki nodded impatiently - then bit down hard on the scarf between her teeth as a sharp, stinging current leapt from his hand and onto her breast. But he didn't stop there. Never letting up the intensity, he trailed his hand unhurriedly, relentlessly down, one rib at a time. By the time he reached her navel, the sensation of hot white pain had passed through to the other side, into a warm, rosy glow of exquisite pleasure. Despite her efforts to keep her eyes on his, her lids kept fluttering shut as he ratcheted up her arousal.

He continued on across her mound, and she realized with a shiver that he wasn't going to stop. His fingers stole closer and closer to the hardened knot of her clit; she wrapped her trembling legs around his back and squeezed tightly. The scorching current reached the tip of her clitoral hood - and stopped.

Misaki practically sobbed in frustration. "_Bastard,"_ she groaned through her gag. She was completely at his mercy; if he wanted to deny her her release, then there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it. And yet, frustrated as she was, she'd never felt such heights of pleasure before tonight.

"Still okay?" The strain in his voice, his naked desire for her nearly pushed her over the edge. She jerked her head once, keeping her hands resolutely clasped to the headboard and her face pressed into her arm. As desperate as she was for her release, she wanted to know how far he would push her - and how much she could take.

Then her aching clit was between his fingers and all coherent thought was wiped from her mind. He began slowly, with just the tiniest, gentlest spark - but that spark at the cluster of already-sensitized nerve endings sent a pulsing current directly to the pleasure centers of her brain. He was as ruthless as only the Black Reaper could be. With rapt attention on her face and her body, he kept her hovering on a razor-thin edge between excruciating stimulation and blissful release. The animal cries and whimpers that filled her ears couldn't possibly be coming from her own throat, yet she knew that they were. White-hot pinpricks of light flashed behind her eyelids, and her arms strained uselessly against the cuffs.

He added a circular stroking motion with the tip of his finger, and her back arched almost painfully as the flood of ecstasy finally broke over her. Only Hei's quick reflexes and hand over her mouth kept the neighbors from hearing her shout despite the gag.

She came down slowly, panting, gasping for breath behind his hand. When she opened her eyes, head still spinning from the rush, it was to find a mask-less Hei staring down at her with a look of such need that she thought her heart might stop. He tore the gloves from his hands, never taking his gaze from hers, gripped her hips, and in the first truly selfish move that he'd made all night - ever since she'd known him - he thrust himself inside of her.

He was hot and hard, and as he stroked her from the inside, filling her, long and slow at first, then faster and more desperate, she felt another climax building, wave after wave of rapture. She tightened around him, and felt his moan rather than heard it. He nuzzled his face, warm and sweating, against her neck, and murmured, "How do you do this to me?"

Even bound, gagged, and helpless, she held him in her power. She let out a sob as the realization pushed her over the edge. Hei came directly after her in a shuddering, groaning spasm.

She tried to beg him not to pull out, to stay inside of her and not leave her empty, but she couldn't manage even the simplest of sounds. Dimly she was aware of Hei removing the gag and the handcuffs. Her muscles were weak and leaden; Hei was pulling her up, rubbing her arms, speaking to her - asking if she was alright. His obvious concern for her, on top of the extremes of emotion that she'd felt that night, suddenly overcame her. She clung to him, shaking - and without a single shred of embarrassment, burst into tears.

Hei removed her glasses, then slipped his hand beneath the blouse that was still hanging loosely off her shoulders and rubbed soothingly at the exact spot on her back that had been paining her all day. How had he known that it hurt? She only sobbed harder, trembling in his arms while he wove his fingers into her hair.

"Misaki…" his voice was raw, broken. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I thought -"

"No," she whispered, clutching the fabric of his shirt with weak fingers. "No, Hei, I'm fine. I'm just…overwhelmed." Misaki breathed deeply, her emotion beginning to subside. It hurt her heart that he thought he was in any way at fault for her reaction. "But I loved every second."

His arms tightened around her. "Are you sure?"

She smiled through her tears. "Of course. Do you think I wouldn't be honest about that?"

The tension left his back as he exhaled his relief.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," she told him.

Hei stroked a thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away a tear. "You? Why?"

"For earlier. With the handcuffs." She was ashamed of the memory; she'd done nothing but take. Then when he'd had the chance to turn things around and she'd given him her control - he'd used it to give _her_ more pleasure than she could bear. "I was angry, but…I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm sorry."

He shrugged awkwardly. "I would have stopped you if it bothered me."

"Would you?" Somehow, she didn't quite believe him.

He didn't respond, and that was answer enough. Misaki looked up into his face. It was so hard for him to admit to his emotions; not that it was much easier for her. But she wanted - needed - to hear the truth. "Did you…" her face heated, and she had to stop and take a breath. "Did you like…the rest?"

He blushed that adorable faint blush, and his eyes were soft and warm when he said, "Yes."

"Why?"

"Why?" Hei looked at her blankly for a moment, then cupped her cheek with calloused fingers. "Because you liked it." He hesitated, then added softly, "Because you hide your vulnerability away from the world, but you show it to me. Not all the time, but sometimes. And when you do - like tonight -"

The words caught in his throat, and Misaki squeezed his arm encouragingly.

"It's been a long time since anyone has trusted me the way that you do," he finished, his voice rough and raw.

That was it, wasn't it. If it was difficult for her to be so vulnerable with another person, how much harder must it be for Hei, whose entire life depended on mistrust and keeping people at arms' length? Yet he could do it for her. And she could do it for him. The words _I love you_ hovered just behind her conscious mind, but she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge them.

"Thank you," she whispered, and kissed him softly. Hei returned the kiss, brushing his tongue languidly along her upper lip. She rolled up the hem of his shirt, needing to feel his bare skin against hers. He broke off the kiss to pull the shirt over his head, then helped her push her own blouse and bra off of her shoulders. Misaki winced when he tugged the sleeves past her wrists.

"_Ow_." She hadn't realized that they'd been bruised until just now. Then she smiled as Hei took both her wrists gently in his hands and laid a kiss on each one.

"Maybe I need to invest in some padded handcuffs, for next time," she said, studying his face for his reaction.

His eyes darkened from indigo to midnight blue when he said, "I can bring some rope, instead."

She shivered all the way down to her toes. "No mask, though." She needed to be able to see the unconstrained emotion in his eyes, his vulnerability, when they were together.

"No mask." He kissed her again, then reached past her and switched off the light. They lay down together, Hei spooning up against her and her head resting on his arm. As he pulled the sheets over them both, she wondered idly if he could have used his power to turn off the light, or if it would have ruined the lamp. A giggled escaped her throat.

"What's so funny?" Hei asked sleepily, placing a warm hand over her belly.

"Nothing," she said, overlaying her hand on his. "I was just thinking of the star activity report that's going to be on my desk in the morning."

His hand on her stomach tensed, and Misaki inwardly cursed herself for ruining the mood. Why did she have to bring the real world crashing back down on top them?

But then he said, "Maybe…I could find a way to leave."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Do you think it's possible?"

"I don't know. It wouldn't be easy."

Misaki ran her fingers along the thin scar on his forearm. She hadn't yet had the courage to ask him how he'd gotten any of his scars. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I know. But I don't want to lose you." He turned his hand and entwined his fingers in hers, then pulled her closer.

She closed her eyes, hope blossoming in her chest. "You won't."

* * *

_fin_


End file.
